(sorry for the late entry. was really busy last night.)

part 8
I was creeping around the outside of Rancini's house when the world went black. At first I thought the moon had denied me its last shred of light, or that I was creeping further and further into darkness. Me opening my eyes told me I was wrong on at least the first count.

Rancini's ugly mug loomed in, and I wished I was knocked out again.

"Wha' ya doon ou'side m' house, Garrett? Yuh wan' yuh shuh die or somethin'?"

My head throbbed. Had a headache the size of a gorilla, and the monkey wanted out. The stench emanating from Rancini's mottled lips and teeth wasn't making it much better.

"Aaaah, god.. whaddya hit me with?"

"Whaddit mattuh?"

"Nothin', nothin', just curious. I gotta golf club sized lump on my head from what it feels like."

"Whatevuh makes yuh feel bettuh, Garrett... But yuh wunn be feeling bettuh anytime soon if yuh dunn tell me wha' ya' doon on muh lawn."

"Would you believe I was lookin' for somethin'?"

"Iss nadda first time, Garrett."

"Might not be the last time too."

"Wha' ya lookin' fuh now?"

"Espirit de Renard... heard of it?"

Rancini flinched, and I knew I hit a nerve. They called Rancini the unfeeling man, not only because of his ruthlessness in doing... business, but also because he literally couldn't feel. The entire left side of his body was stiff like me waking up with a hangover, and that contributed to his unique articulatory traits. Not to say his tennis game was a pushover, at the very least.

"Iss guhn, Garrett. Guht stolen."

Now there was news I didn't want to hear. I felt like I finally had things in my grasp, only for things to slip away again. And again. Somehow I felt life was a twisted mirror of myself, distorting and shifting once I thought I had things under control.

"Any idea who took it?"

Any weakness in Rancini's demeanour vanished. His features hardened, even more than I thought possible.

"B'shard."